Instead I began to inhale and exhale long deep breaths.
Focused on the beat from the speakers.
And blocked everyone out.
??????
I tossed a peanut at Radovan’s head and watched it bounce off his forehead. He blinked. He didn’t move.
“That has to be at least fifty points,” I said, cracking open another shell.
Olya tutted from the other side of the kitchen, where she was wiping down the counter with the focused displeasure of a woman who had not signed up for this.
“Look at the mess you are making,” she grumbled.
“I’ll clean it up.” I closed one eye and lined up my next shot.“I’m bored.”
The peanut bounced off Radovan’s hair and disappeared somewhere behind him.
He turned. The look on his face was the specific expression of a man reconsidering his career choices. Then he picked up his post and moved to stand in the doorway instead, placing himself just far enough away to be technically out of range.
I cracked open another shell and considered the distance.
“Argh! That hurt—someone get the first aid kit!” I screamed.
Radovan spun and ran back into the kitchen.
The peanut was fired mid-stride.
Left cheek.
I stood up and cheered for myself.
He stopped. Turned slowly. His jaw was clenched tight, and his right eye began to twitch.
“I have a gun,” he said.
He left.
I gave it thirty seconds before I walked to the hallway.
“Spartak!” I called out.“I need a hand with something.”
His footsteps approached with the reluctance of someone who had heard everything from the next room and knew exactly what kind of hand was going to be required.
I settled back onto my stool and began cracking shells, lining the peanuts up in a neat row along the counter.
New target incoming.
Spartak stood beside the door and I tossed him a peanut. He grabbed it mid-air and ate it. At least he was normal.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
Vadim:Stop tormenting my men. Or else.
Radovan was a dirty fucking tattletale.
Every single time. Every single time he ran straight to the Pakhan.
